


Learning Curve

by Darklady



Series: Prolix-verse [3]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Consensual Kink, Light BDSM, M/M, is no tag for something this strange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-15
Updated: 2012-05-15
Packaged: 2017-11-05 10:47:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/405558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darklady/pseuds/Darklady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce Wayne is a billionaire who gets whatever he wants. Batman is an unstoppable legend. Both of them want only one thing. You do the  math.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Learning Curve

**Author's Note:**

> RIGHT after the end of JLA #51. 
> 
> The editors at DC keep doing things that lead to kinky plot bunnies, so don’t blame me! They alone own these warped characters.

Batman was out with the Justice League. That, and that alone, was the singular reason that Nightwing was patrolling the rooftops of Gotham rather then the back alleys of Bludhaven. As to why he had chosen to pause on the roof overlooking the Ritz-Gotham? Only a matter of tactical anticipation. With the cream of Gotham’s moneyed elite reveling on the restaurant patio below, any decently trained crime fighter would inevitable chose to keep an eye on things. That fact that one of those revelers was Gotham’s most famous citizen, Bruce Wayne, was of course entirely beside the point.

So, Nightwing assured himself, he had *not* been watching for Bruce. The fact that he *saw* the man - in the shadows - tucked discretely behind some decorative foliage - with a blond woman in his arms - well, that was a matter of coincidence. And the fact that Nightwing just happened to be carrying his civilian cell phone, rather then relying on the usual Oracle link? That was merely a forsightful choice of tools. Right.

Nightwing pulled out his phone and punched two numbers. The quiet ring was echoed almost instantly by the slightly louder ringing of a phone below.

The dark-haired young hero observed closely as Bruce Wayne stepped back from his black-gowned acquaintance. Back - but not far enough or quickly enough as far as one pair of sharp blue eyes were concerned.

Bruce glanced at the number display before accepting the call. “Sorry my dear, I do have to take this.”

The blonde smiled sweetly, likely annoyed, but not about to loose her chance with the Gotham playboy over one minor interruption.

Waiting until his listener had the phone against his ear, Nightwing hissed, “Lose the blond. Now.”

Bruce said nothing. Merely flipped the phone case shut and slipped it back into his pocket before turning to his waiting companion. “So sorry Elena”, he smiled ruefully. “Business emergency. You know how it is.”

From her expression she would have preferred to protest. This was not the way she had planned the evening to end. But faced with the playboy billionaire’s bland courtesy, she had no choice but to take his proffered arm and return to the party.

One there, Bruce quickly introduced the lady to a new group of glitterati before making his excuses. After all, none of Alfred’s boys would ever tolerate poor social manners - and Bruce was already in trouble enough. Not that even a careful observer would have been able to detect that from the nonchalant manner in which he made his way to the private elevator leading to the elegant Wayne suite.

Even when he reached the restricted floor and entered the richly furnished apartment Wayne had the posture of a man without a care in the world. Only when his eyes met those of the black-and-azure clad legend crouched within the opened window did his expression falter.

“Having a good time?” Nightwing inquired, releasing his jump line to land in the middle of the room.

“Not particularly.”

“Really now?” From his tone, the Bludhaven hero was unconvinced.

“You know I never had a taste for blonds.” Bruce Wayne quipped. “But if you *will* insist on spending your evenings lounging on roof tops...”

“You’ll go shopping elsewhere?” Nightwing's voice grew dark.

“Unless you’d care to object?”

The young vigilante smiled. It was not a particularly gentle smile. “So that’s the game.” Moving with lethal grace across the room, he paused just inches from the taller man.

“If it is?” Wayne backed up a bit, but he kept his voice steady.

“Then I believe I can remember the moves.” Nightwing advanced slowly as Wayne retreated, keeping the distance between the two men unchanged until the Gotham magnate was halted abruptly by the hard edge of his desk.

The black-glad vigilante pressed closer, forcing Wayne to bow backwards over the desk in a futile gesture of evasion.

“You, Mr. Wayne, have been quite...annoying.”

“And what do you intend to so about it?”

“That depends.” Nightwing raised his hand, letting two blue-marked fingers glide down the handsome cheek now poised below him. “Perhaps I should simply go off and leave you to your preferred entertainment.”

“Do you think so?” Wayne's right hand released its grip on the desk to slide up one muscular thigh, pausing only when it came to rest on the hard molded kevlar at the apex. There one nomex gloved hand covered it, guided it, until the captive fingers were finally tucked inside and pressed by the armor against the growing heat of an expanding cock.

 

“Or perhaps” the dark voice continued, “I should show you exactly *why* provoking me this way is not a good idea.”

Battle-roughened fingers turned to encircle the filling shaft. “And how might you do that?” Wayne asked, his voice revealing nothing beyond a light curiosity even as his hand stroked the young man straddling his body.

Apparently that was the wrong question. Or perhaps the right one. In a flash, the adventurous hand was removed, forced back and with a few loops of de-cell quickly lashed to its companion. Now deprived of any support, Wayne fell heavily against the desk.

Nightwing unbuttoned the midnight blue tuxedo jacket, spreading the shiny lapels and forcing the closely tailored sleeves over broad shoulders until the jacket formed another layer of restraint. 

“I hope you weren't attached to this suit.”

“Not particularly.” Wayne tested the elastic line roped around his wrists, finding it nicely firm. “It’s last seasons style. And there’s another in the closet.”

“Good.”

A razor sharp blade snapped from one night-black cuff, and in a few skillful slashes the jacket hung in rags. The white dress shirt followed, ripped apart by one powerful pull.

Wayne watched the proceeding apparently unmoved except for the growing mound pressing against the front of his well-tailored trousers.

“Aren’t you concerned that I might call for help?”

“No” Nightwing answered simply. “Because then I’d have to gag you. And I have better uses for your mouth. Agreed?

“Oh well.” Bruce Wane tried to shrug, but only succeeded in twisting against his bonds. “This suite is pretty well sound proofed anyway, I suppose it would be wasted energy. Unless...”, he smiled suddenly, “someone was to open the door.”

“Right.” Nightwing shifted away from his captive as he reached over and pressed a button concealed under the far side of the desk. “That should take care of that.”

“Well then.” Bruce Wayne conceded. “ With rescue out of the question, I suppose I’ll just have to submit to your demands.”

“Whatever they are?” the dark voice demanded. Black covered fingers spread across the hard plains of the exposed chest, tweaking one brown nipple and earning a smothered exclamation.

Wayne straightened. “I’m sure I’ll find that out soon enough.”

“Rather mouthy for a man in your position.”

“Oh?” A sly smile crossed the older man’s handsome face. “I'm not in much of any position...yet.”

“You have a point there.” Nightwing agreed, leaving the desk to stand before his erstwhile captive. “On your knees.”

“Here?” Wayne glanced down at the hardwood floor.

“Over by the sofa?”

“Much better.”

As Nightwing followed his half-dressed prisoner to the wide leather sofa and helped him to his knees he remarked, “I really will have to do something about that mouth of yours.” 

Bruce said nothing, merely waited patiently as the Bludhaven vigilante seated himself comfortably on the thick leather cushions. Long legs stretched out, forming a prison of muscled flesh at each side of the captive. As the kneeling man looked on with eager eyes, Nightwing swiftly undid the last fasteners of his crotch protection. With the cup was discarded; his now-hard cock was freed to spring up. It did so, nearly brushing against the parted lips poised nearby.

“And I believe I have just the thing to fill it.” Nightwing finished, reaching out.

Rock steady hands claimed the sides of Bruce Wayne’s face, guiding his mouth gently but firmly onto the flushed shaft.

Bruce opened to it eagerly, drawing the thick penis deeply into the depths of this throat. Nose brushing against sable curls, his tongue stretch out to flick against ever-tightening balls before the throbbing pressure against his palate forced a brief retreat. Again and again the bound man thrust forward, sucking fiercely as if wishing to drain the very essence of the hard young athlete before him.

Releasing his captive, Nightwing clutched at the yielding leather as Wayne’s skilled tongue brushed the sensitive skin between cock and balls, sending waves after wave of pleasure coursing though the young man’s body. No matter. The man on his knees before him needed no encouragement to accept the hard length offered to him. Each drop of fluid was greeted as a treat, each thrust as a gift.

Only when the first spasms of orgasm sent the long rod leaping free did Wayne draw back, licking the bright fluid as it splashed over his cheeks and down his chest.

“Holy... you’re good at that.” Nightwing collapsed aback against the cushions until his breathing steadied. “But that's not enough.” The look he sent at the man kneeling before him strove for sternness. It might have been more convincing had his breath not caught each time his captives willing tongue licked seed off another fraction of flushed skin. “Not after the way you behaved.”

Bruce rested his head on a kevlar-covered thigh. “I was rather a rotter, wasn’t I?”

“Well” Nightwing eased his mocking supplicant back on his heels and stood. “At least you understand your faults.”

“Forgiving so quickly?” Wayne sounded rather disappointed.

The midnight detective paced slowly around the kneeling form. “Should I be?”

“Not quite yet.”

“You’re right.” Gauntleted hands reached for the waistband of Wayne’s trousers, lowering the zipper and freeing the weeping cock. “I wouldn’t want you to mistake mercy for lenience.”

“Terrible mistake in training.” Sea-blue eyes closed and their owner gasped a bit as a hard hand brushed against his swollen shaft. “Slacking off early.”

“Well, since you’re already on your knees.” Black-covered palms pushed down silk boxers, exposing the rock-hard cheeks of Wayne’s lightly tanned ass. 

“Bend over.”

The bound man did so, resting his face against the butter-leather cushions and lifting his ass higher into the air.

Obedience gained its reward, as a quick kiss landed on each cheek, followed closely by a light slap. “Higher.” Another kiss soothed the sting. Not waiting for instruction, the bound man spread his legs, displaying himself as blatantly as was possible from his position.

“Damn...”Nightwing opened the lamp table, then slammed it again in obvious disappointment. “Where do you keep....?”

“Bathroom.” Bruce answered. “Third drawer down in the blue box.”

“Thanks.” Moving quickly, the young man pulled open the drawer and swiftly pawed through the contents. “No lavender?” For the first time the outrage in his voice took on a real edge.

“You used it all last time. Pizza. Remember?”

“Oh well.” The sable-haired athlete grabbed a few things and returned.

“As I was saying. Bend over.” Nightwing knelt behind his captive, tucking his knees between and spreading his supplicant still wider. He ran his hands possessively over the upturned buttocks. “Higher.” With the supple arch of a muscular back the command was obeyed. “Good.” 

Reaching past the wrapped arms, Nightwing closed one strong hand around the weeping cock, stroking firmly from base to tip. “Could that silly blonde bimbo give you this?”

“Well maybe...”   
“Or this?” The other hand claimed the upturned cheeks. Two slick fingers slid down the narrow crack, spreading the firm flesh, circling and finally entering the tight entrance.

Bruce thrust back, driving the digits knuckle deep within his hot passage. “Oh.” He replied with a shuddering breath as the fingers spread and twisted within him. “I hope not.”

“Or this?” Nightwing rested the head of his cock teasingly against the puckered opening.

“Oh yes. I mean...no.” Wayne jerked, gasping a bit as the flared head slowly eased its way past the dense ring of muscle. “I mean.... ooh more.... yes.”

Nightwing pressed another inch into the tight passage. “Is that what you want?”

Bruce lunged fiercely back, striving to claim still more of the impaling organ. “More.” he moaned. “Harder.    
“Like this? Nightwing pulled back, almost out, and then sank balls-deep into the tight heat of the narrow passage.

“Oh yes...please.” Wayne's speech vanished into a moan as the strong body behind him drove again and again, forcing his bare chest against the slick leather with every pounding stroke. Pulling back until almost gone, then driving deep until the slap of balls sounded against his ass, the young man fucking him staked his claim on Wayne’s receptive body. Each thrust sent Wayne’s cock into the unyielding hand before him, each withdrawal drew his ass back in quest of further possession.

Trapped between the two sensations, no training could prevail against the overwhelming need for release. Driven - taken -possessed - Bruce Wayne sobbed his pleasure as wave after wave of seed was drawn from his aching balls. Finally, wet and spent, Wayne collapsed utterly. He could do no more then gasp and accept as the hot rush of fluid flooded him deeply.

“Well.” Dick Grayson dropped his mask on the lamp table and offering a hand to his lover. “ I hope you’ve learned your lesson.”

Bruce Wayne stood, dropping his now-slack bonds to the floor. “I don’t know.” he smiled, lowering his lips to the upturned mouth before him. “Do you think we might go over it one more time?”

“Slow learner?” Grayson chuckled, reaching for a nearby towel.

“I do have rather an air-head reputation.”

 

Do you really think this is THE END?

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©KKR 2011


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